Chapter 38: Fast and Furious

It didn't take long for S.H.I.E.L.D. to reach out to Luke. An agent delivered a letter, simple, sleek, and stamped with the unmistakable seal of Stark Industries. In bold, unmistakable letters, it read: [STARK INDUSTRIES PRESS CONFERENCE – INVITATION] There wasn't even a name on it. No personalization. No velvet envelope. Just the kind of open invite that told you if you had this, you were welcome. Clearly, these weren't hard to come by, media contacts, tech insiders, and the curious elite probably all had one. But Luke didn't care about its lack of exclusivity. What mattered was that it got him in. He wasn't going to the press conference because he admired Tony Stark, though the man was something to behold. Luke had a much more important motive. Plot points. This press conference was another opportunity to harvest points. The more the system grew, the more power it unlocked. He could already feel it. Even though he was only at Level 2, there was a creeping sense of control forming inside him, a sense of potential, like standing at the foot of a mountain with wings that were just beginning to unfurl. 'Open system panel,' he thought. A glowing blue screen shimmered into existence in front of his eyes. [Host: Luke Yale System Level: 2 (10 plot points required to upgrade to Level 3) Plot Points: 4 Probability of First-Order Mutation: 80% Second-Order Mutation: 20% Third-Order Mutation: 1% (triggered in extreme cases) *Fourth-Order Mutation: 0%] Luke's lips curled into a satisfied smile. This press conference might not be a main plot event, but it was definitely loaded with important characters. Obadiah Stane, the main villain of the Iron Man 1 movie. Virginia "Pepper" Potts, Iron Man's secretary and future girlfriend. Colonel James Rhodes, Iron Man's best friend and also future War Machine, who later changed his name to Iron Patriot. At least three core supporting characters from the early Iron Man arcs. And of course, there was Tony himself, another one of the main characters. Between meeting them and soaking in the surrounding narrative energy, Luke estimated he could net six plot points at the very least, more than enough to push the system into Level 3. He just couldn't miss this. ... "Wanda, I'm heading out." Luke called as he grabbed his coat. "I'm coming too," Wanda said instantly, eyeing him with a hint of suspicion. Luke blinked. Her expression said it all: 'does she think I'm going on a date?' He had to think fast. "If you come too," Luke said calmly, "who's going to man the store? We've still got customers to serve. We still need to make money." That hit home. Wanda's suspicion turned into reluctant practicality. In just two days, the shop had made enough revenue to rival half a month's earnings. Their shelves were nearly empty, and they needed to restock soon. She frowned, arms folded. "Fine. You can go. But you're not allowed to meet that woman!" Luke raised his hand like a soldier pledging loyalty. "Scout's honor." Of course, he didn't mean it. He had no plans to meet Natasha anyway, although he would have loved it, but Wanda didn't need to know that. He simply snatched the car keys off the counter and bolted before she could change her mind. ... In the garage. The dim light flickered as Luke approached the old vehicle parked in the corner like a rusting sentinel. A 1980 Chevrolet Camaro, his parents' old car. The very one they'd died in. When Luke found it, it had been a wreck, twisted, burnt, and forgotten. But he had spent weeks piecing it back together. Sweat, time, a few hundred bucks, and probably too much duct tape. Even so, the car still looked like it belonged in a junkyard. Normally, he wouldn't bother driving it. But today was different. The press conference wasn't waiting on the bus schedule. Luke slid into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine roared like a wounded beast. Then, a chime echoed inside his head. [Ding! Your car has sensed your urgency. It has awakened and evolved into a brand new Chevrolet Camaro] There was a flash, not just of light, but of motion as well. The car shifted beneath him. Metal warped, seats softened, panels gleamed. The cracked dashboard shimmered into smooth carbon black. The steering wheel fit perfectly into his hands. Outside, the dull paint peeled away, revealing a fierce, polished yellow finish with bold black stripes. Luke blinked. "Whoa." His hands caressed the wheel, now sleek and responsive. The engine purred like a panther. Which man didn't dream of driving a beast like this? With a smirk, he slammed his foot on the accelerator. The Camaro surged forward like a predator unleashed. The tires screeched. The air howled. The city blurred past him. "COOL!" Luke shouted, grinning like a kid with a new toy. The wind roared past the windows, and for the first time in a while, Luke felt truly alive. ...